“I’m so sorry.” Cindy extended her arm in Alan’s direction. “This is Alan Peterson, a guest in the Aspen cabin.” The same arm waived over to Rose. “And this is my cousin Rose. She’s up from Boston.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said
“Same here,” Rose agreed.
Cindy turned to her cousin. “So what does your artwork stuck in customs have to do with you finally coming to the lake?”
Even though she had no idea what was going on in the kitchen, just like every cousin who walked into the Hart domain before dinnertime, she shrugged into one of Lucy’s oversized aprons and was ready to go to work. “There is no way it is clearing until Monday at the earliest, no matter how many frenzied or irate phone calls I make. And just in case you’re wondering, threatening to send my retired Marine Corps general grandfather down to show them how to get things done doesn’t help.”
“No,” Cindy tried not to laugh, “I wouldn’t think that would have worked any better than had the U.S. Customs called the General and offered to show him how to get things done.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Rose tied the apron behind her. “Anyhow, given the prospect of being chained to my desk able only to snarl at the phone, I figured the best medicine for my blood pressure would be to hightail it to the lake. After all, if I can do nothing to fix this mess from Boston, I might as well do nothing to fix this mess from Lawford.”
“Good point.”
“So,” Rose rubbed her hands together briskly, “what can I do to help?”
Cindy held her hands up, palms out. “Don’t look at me. I’m the reason we’re not having Lucy’s roast for dinner.”
“Yeah,” Rose chuckled, “I figured something like that might be what happened.”
“Can you peel potatoes?” Alan asked.
“Can’t everybody?” Rose teased, then turned to her cousin. “You should probably peel the potatoes. You can’t cut off a finger with the potato peeler.”
“Ha ha ha.” At this point Cindy wasn’t going to mention that her cousin was probably right. With the adrenaline rush of the last several minutes from trying not to burn the kitchen down, combined with the long busy morning at the clinic, she probably could easily slice off a finger instead of the potatoes.
Exchanging stories, the three of them worked, laughing, and teasing each other over captive art exhibits, life-like dummies, and burning dinner. By the time Rose finally stopped rolling with laughter over their guest caught stabbing at a twenty pound rib roast and scaring Cindy half to death, instead of charred kitchen, the house smelled like sautéed onions and roasted potatoes.
“What have we here?” Lucy stripped out of her sweater and set her bag on the counter.
Supervising from the kitchen table, Grams sat surrounded by piles of fabric squares. “The kids cooked dinner for us.”
“Here you go, Grams.” Poppy handed her grandmother the iron. “Don’t look at me, I only got home about ten minutes ago.”
Cindy shook her head. Not that there was a chance in hell that Lucy would think she’d had anything to do with actually cooking dinner. But if she was lucky, Lucy wouldn’t realize that she was also the one responsible for almost ruining dinner. “I didn’t even peel the potatoes. But I did set the table.”
Sniffing at the air, Lucy followed her nose to the stove, almost dropping the pot lid when she spotted Rose coming from out of the pantry. “Oh my gosh, Rose. Honey, when did you learn how to cook?” The woman had actually said that with a straight face.
“As much as I would love to take credit for tonight’s dinner creation, I can only lay claim to chopping potatoes and vegetables.”
The frown descended on Lucy. “Then who…?”
Multiple fingers pointed at the only man standing in the room. Rinsing off a few dishes by the sink, Alan raised one hand and smiled at Lucy. “My grandmother always said what good is a man if he’s no good in the kitchen.”
“Interesting philosophy,” Lucy muttered, taking a wooden spoon and staring into the pot. “Do I want to know why my roast beef is now hash?”
Every head in the room shook from left to right, except for Alan who kept his gaze on his pot of hash. Cindy could almost feel everyone hold their breath as Lucy took a taste of Alan’s efforts at salvaging supper.
“Oh, my.” She took a second taste. “This is absolutely delicious.”
“The secret is in the cream,” Alan explained with a grin.
Lucy nodded. “You’re going to have to give me the recipe.”
“That can be arranged.”
The clacking sound of paws against hardwood floors entered the kitchen seconds before the General turned the corner. “Are we planning on yakking about this dinner all night or are we going to sit down and eat it?”
Immediately, one by one, each member of the family’s shoulders snapped erect. One yes sir followed another until everybody was seated at the large dining room table.
“Tell me, Alan,” Grams dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, “was it your grandmother or your mother who taught you how to cook like this?”
“Actually, neither. After college I learned rather quickly that unless I wanted to go broke eating out, I’d better learn how to cook.”
“Well, I’m impressed. You can cook for us anytime you want.” Grams turned to Cindy seated across from her. “And you, young lady, might want to take some lessons from this young man. Someday you are going to need to know how to cook something.”
“And on that note,” Poppy pushed to her feet and Cindy quietly mouthed thank you to her baby sister, “who wants dessert?”
Alan looked at his watch and then turned to Cindy. “It’s been almost three hours. Maybe I should be getting back.”
“We are having Lily’s apfel kuchen,” Poppy told him as if that were all he needed to know to change his mind.
“Warm.” Lily carried a large pan into the dining room and set it down in the center of the table. “Dig in.”
Cindy reached over and patted the top of his hand. “They’ll be fine a little while longer.”
“They?” Grams asked.
“Two kittens have adopted me,” Alan explained, quickly adding, “temporarily.”
That actually made Cindy laugh. She wasn’t buying temporary anymore.
“Kittens,” Grams said slowly. “We do seem to have an abundance of them this spring, don’t we?”
At the opposite end of the table, the General cleared his throat loudly. “I’ll have a large piece, thank you.”
“Any other takers?” Lily cut a piece of cake for her grandfather and handed the dish to him.
“A very good source says that I have time to enjoy one slice, please.” Alan held up a plate for her.
Lily winked at Cindy and smiled. “Smart man. Not as smart as my Cole, but smart enough.”
Handing her own dish over to her granddaughter, Grams looked to Alan. “What about the mama, did she adopt you too?”
“No. We haven’t been able to find the mother cat.”
The General coughed loudly.
“Are you still taking your allergy medicine?” Cindy asked. It had been quite some time since she’d heard the General coughing.
Slapping his hand against his chest, her grandfather shook his head. “No. Just went down the wrong pipe.” He cleared his throat again. “You have time to join us for cards tonight?”
“No, I’m afraid I really should get home and check on the kittens.” Alan swallowed his first taste of apfel kuchen. “And my compliments to the baker. You have outdone yourself.”
Lily smiled. “It is a family favorite.”
“Face it,” the General beamed at his granddaughter, “pretty much everything you bake is a family favorite.”
“Yes.” Her grin widened. “It is.”
Two more bites and Alan had practically inhaled his dessert. “I hate to eat and run, but I really should get back and check on the kiddos.”
“Yes. I’ll give you a r
ide.” Cindy stood and turned to her grandparents. “It’s been a very long day. I’m gonna head home after I drop him off.”
“Will we see you tomorrow, dear?” Grams asked.
“Yes,” Rose chimed in. “We have lots to catch up on.”
When it came to the recent happenings in their lives, Cindy had a feeling she was going to be the catchee and Rose the catchor. She could see the curious gleam in her cousin’s eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Not man nor beast would keep her away from an afternoon with her cousins. Stepping away from the table, her eyes leveled with Alan’s. Well, maybe one man.
***
From where he stood on the veranda, the General had a perfect view of the front path, the side parking lot, and Cindy and Alan walking side by side.
His bride of decades came to stand behind him, resting her hand on his shoulder and leaning against him. “He is an interesting man, isn’t he?”
“At least he can cook.”
Fiona chuckled. “And quite well. Makes a woman wonder what other hidden talents the man might have.”
One brow raised, he turned to look at his wife. Rolling her eyes, she chuckled, lightly smacking him on the shoulder. He chuckled back at her. Oh, how he loved this woman. It was beyond him how other men got through life.
He turned back in time to see their guest holding the car door for his granddaughter.
“Don’t you think it’s interesting that he’s turned down a month of invitations, but accepts the first time Cindy extends the invite?” Fiona leaned in closer.
Yes, he thought it very interesting. Of course, he would have expected nothing less.
Chapter Nine
The last few days, Alan had actually looked forward to the morning. Not only had the kittens taken to curling up on the pillow beside him, one of the two gray fur balls occasionally liked strolling over to his pillow and sprawling out above his head. He didn’t mind the kitten seeking out his warmth, it was the rumbling purr in the middle of the night that still startled him out of a sound sleep. Despite the interrupted rest, his morning routine now included at least a couple of hours of putting words on a page. At this pace, he’d have the book finished in no time.
For some reason, that thought didn’t make him nearly as happy as it should. And why was that a surprise to him? Finishing the book meant no more reason to stay. No reason to stay meant no more time with Hyacinth Nelson. That idea was enough to make him want to slam his laptop shut and take a stroll in the woods. Or maybe a ride into the other side of town. He could take the two kittens for a checkup of sorts. Now that was an idea that really put a smile on his face.
“What do you think about that?” Using his pointer finger, he scratched behind the ear of the darker gray kitty. Curled in his favorite box, the only reaction the kitten offered was to stretch his neck further out for more scratches. Not even the knock at the door captured the animal’s interest.
Now that he had met so many more people in the community and come out of his cave, so to speak, he had no idea who could be knocking. Though he had his hopes.
The front door open, he was delighted to find one smiling veterinarian standing like an angel with the sunlight shining behind her. Boy, if he stayed much longer, he really was going to become a poet.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?”
He waved her inside. “Not at all.”
“I have a few people I need to see in town to follow up on the sidewalk fair, and thought I’d pop in first to see how Frick and Frack are doing.”
“Frick and Frack.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Not sure how I feel about the names, but they say great minds think alike. I was just considering bringing the kittens in for a checkup.”
“Glad I could save you a trip.” She followed him inside. “I see this is still their favorite spot.”
“I was surprised one could fit in that box. I can’t believe two of them are in there.”
“You’d be amazed. We once spent almost an hour trying to find a missing kitten. My receptionist was in a total state of frenzy. She blamed herself for not keeping a closer eye on the kittens.”
“But you did find him?”
She nodded. “Yeah, he crawled into a tissue box and had fallen asleep.”
“I can see how he might’ve been overlooked.” He chuckled. No wonder so many people found kittens irresistible. He was quickly becoming one of them. Already he was starting to wonder who would become these little animals’ people. A part of him wanted to have approval rights. And wasn’t that ridiculous. This wasn’t a film contract that gave him casting rights. “Would you like a cup of tea, glass of water, coffee?”
Cindy lifted one of the kittens, rubbed its tummy, and shook her head. “How is the litter box working out?”
What kind of a question was that? “Fine?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” She smiled up at him. He really was getting much too used to that smile.
“I suppose I’m telling you. At least, I haven’t found any droppings around the cabin. And there seems to be a reasonable amount of clumping. At least I think it’s reasonable.”
“Good.” She held up the darker gray kitten, nibbling on her finger. “This little guy is a feisty one, isn’t he?”
Alan chuckled. “Yeah. I noticed that too. I’m not positive but I’m pretty sure he’s the one who likes to attack my toes while I’m sleeping, and the other fellow is the one who likes to purr on my head.”
“I could see that.” She laughed with him.
He stole a quick glance at the clock over the table, thinking quickly how to extend his time with her. “Since it’s almost lunchtime, I was thinking of checking out Mabel’s. Any chance I can steal you away for a short while?”
Flipping her wrist, Cindy glanced at her watch and nodded. “I think I can make that work.”
“Great, your car or mine?”
“We’ll take mine,” she said. “I know how to get from here to town with my eyes closed.”
Placing his hand at the small of her back, he ushered her out the door, shaking his head. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather you kept your eyes open.”
They laughed the short distance to the car, threw out awful cat name suggestions during the drive, and were still laughing as they walked up the stairs into the diner.
Eyes shimmering with curiosity, a waitress quickly crossed the restaurant in their direction. “Isn’t it nice to see you in here.”
According to the woman’s name tag, she was the reason for the pink neon Mabel’s sign. Her gaze immediately shifted to Alan, and exactly the way he might have described in one of his books, each corner of her mouth slowly tilted up into a grin that shouted he and the doc would be on the next grapevine broadcast.
Mabel and Cindy exchanged friendly banter on the way to a booth near the back corner. After Mabel handed each of them a menu, she looked back at him, the sparkle in her eye disappearing. “What would you like to drink?”
“Water for me,” Cindy said.
“Me too.”
“Two waters coming up.” Mabel nodded. “I’ll be back to take your orders in just a minute.”
“So,” fingers laced in front of her, Cindy leaned forward, “you don’t like Batman and Robin?”
“Nope. One of them would be bound to have an inferiority complex.”
Shaking her head, Cindy muffled a laugh, much the way she’d done the entire car ride here. “Then I guess Holmes and Watson are out of the question?”
“But Sherlock and Holmes would work.”
“I like Snoopy and Charlie Brown better.”
This time he shook his head. “Charlie Brown is too long. He’d wind up just being Charlie. And Snoopy is a dog.”
“Garfield?” she asked.
Mabel appeared, setting a glass of water in front of each of them, her gaze remaining steady on Alan. Whatever she was sizing up, he had a feeling the afternoon’s grapevine was going to be seriously buzzing. “Do you know
what you’d like to eat?” she asked.
“I’ll have grilled cheese with bacon, a side of sweet potato fries, and a slice of blueberry sour cream pie.”
“That’s what I love about you Nelson girls. None of that salad and diet stuff.” Mabel turned to Alan.
“That sounds delicious. I’ll have the same.”
Mabel nodded, stared at him one long second, and then scurried away.
“Does she look at everybody that way?”
Cindy shrugged. “Maybe she agrees with me and thinks Snoopy and Charlie Brown are good names.”
A loud shriek boomed from the kitchen. All heads turned to the kitchen doors that flew open, banging against the cabinets at either side, and Mabel spewing forth full speed ahead. Now what?
***
“Oh. My. God. It is you!” Clutching something to her chest, Mabel came to a screeching halt at their table and shoved whatever she’d been holding along with a pen under his nose.
Cindy didn’t know whether to duck under the table or give the woman a tranquilizer.
Patting her chest with one hand and waving under her chin with the other, the diner owner looked ready to hyperventilate. “I can’t believe it. Oh my. I love your books. My sister is never going to believe this. Alan Peters in my diner.”
Peters? Wasn’t he Peterson?
“Would you please sign this?” Mabel actually blushed. “That’s Mabel, M.A.B.E.L.”
“Of course.” He smiled up at her, cast a quick glance and apologetic shrug at Cindy, then bowed his head and scribbled something inside the hardcover book.
Alan Peters? Holy…
The kitchen bell echoed through the open doorway and Mabel’s brows shot up high on her forehead. “That’s your lunch. I will be right back.” She did a military turn on her heel and scooted across the dining area, ignoring all questions from concerned customers.
“I hate to say this,” Alan sighed, “but there’s a really good chance we’re not going to have a very peaceful lunch.”
“Good Lord. You’re a writer.” Nothing like stating the obvious.
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